Broken Prism
by euphiiie
Summary: The colored parts of the whole. //au, mariocest ღ
1. o1: the message without the bottle

Broken Prism **»**

The Message Without The Bottle

Luigi tried to slit his throat at the age of twelve, by the time he's twenty, the scar around his throat has almost faded away. But there's a long time between twelve and twenty, everyone knows that as a fact. It's a fairly gray Wednesday today, and Luigi sits at the stainless steel desk, part of the only real furniture in this bite-sized room, besides that and the bed. The rooms are completely painted white, while the floors are a bright red. Luigi's bright blue eyes stare dully at the picture in front of him, his brother and a pretty blonde women on it.

That's them, his new family.

Family.

Luigi thinks it's a funny word, _family_. He opened up his notebook, doodling the letters onto the stark white page. First in print, then in cursive, then in block, then in bubble letters under that. Family. Family. Family. The more he said it, the more artificial it sounded in his mouth. He didn't like the way it rolled off his tongue, he didn't like the way the syllables pronounced themselves the way they did, FAH - MAH - LEE. Luigi bites his lip, nervous feeling creeping up his throat like bile, hands shaking uncontrollably as he wiggles his toes in his red-and-white stripped socks. In the back of his mind, other than hoping that he would get to eat burgers today, he desperately hoped that his new family would like him.

Just because you've spent half of your life in an asylum doesn't mean people should think any less of you.

Right?

Probably not.

When Luigi talked to him, his brother, his _family_. He rejoiced over Luigi coming home, and meeting his wife, eating dinner while catching up. But there isn't much to talk about, nothing happens inside these four white walls, nothing happens outside either. Luigi frets over finding someway to properly converse, he doesn't talk to anyone but Dimentio, and all that consists of a few 'How are you's and 'Good mornings'. That and his wild stories, which Luigi's pretty sure he's lieing about half of them. The only thing he might miss about this place is probably **him**, he was his only friend while he was trapped in this less then perfect white prison.

"Luigi?" A voice asks, seeping in through the stark white door. "Are you ready? Someone is here to take you home."

_**Home...**_

Luigi slowly inhales and exhales, chest heaving and it feels like his heart is in his mouth - he chews on it. Completely unsure of himself, he hasn't had much human interaction - the only one's he has experienced are the one's with his therapist. And first impressions are everything. Or so he hears. Like a child, he shuffles his feet from place to place - his brown shoes moving with a mind of their own, walking across the blood red carpet and onto the worn wooden floorboards of the asylum.

"Your leaving?" A voice asks, and when Luigi whirls around - it's Dimentio, standing before him - looking upset.

"Y-Yeah..." Is Luigi's meek reply.

"Do you think they fixed you?" He asks, voice leaking with amusement. "They couldn't fix me.."

He grabs onto Luigi's throat, not squeezing - but it's not comforting.

"I-I have to go..." Luigi says, tearing himself away - not looking back as he scrambles towards the revolving doors.

**¤ ( && ) Xx**

Mario lay, body sprawled across his trampoline idly in that way men seem to have down so well; oh, his feet could touch the other side now. He folded his legs up so as to fit better, music pounding into his ears from his Ipod; it was better than lying on the grass and getting his jeans dirty. He is fully aware that his 'little brother' was coming over, to move in with him and his wife and perhaps change their lives completely. The little brother he hasn't seen in so many years that it was almost unbelievable, Mario barely had a grasp on what Luigi looked like - ("A lot like you of course! Silly.") - His wife had reminded him.

Still, he wasn't completely convinced - appearances can change, especially in years. Of course, Mario is mathematically challenged - he isn't sure how many years it's been or how old Luigi is now. He's younger then Mario though, he knows that much. Mario places a peanut butter cookie onto his tongue, chewing and swallowing - relishing in the nice taste. The crumbs stick to his fingers, his brushes them off and they land on the trampoline. Mario sighs, a little too lazy to brush them off - he's very comfortable the way he is.

"_Are you sure he isn't a....y'know....Psycho?" Peach had asked moments before, leaning in very close with her hand in front of her mouth - whispering, even though they're the only two in the entire house. _

"_He isn't even here yet - and your already talking crap about him?" Mario asked, laughing at her paranoia. "He can't be all that crazy, I mean - That's what the therapists are for, aren't they? They fix people, that's what they do." He says, and he knows that the fact that he's trying to convince himself is leaking through his voice entirely. _

"_I should hope so," Peach says, scratching her head and smoothing out some imaginary wrinkles out of her dress. "I don't want any psychos in my house, y'know." _

Mario sits up on the blue kiddie-trampoline, tilting his head to the right - his neck hurt for some odd reason, probably from all the nervous sparks going through his body. Or was it something else? Whatever, he wasn't a Doctor or anything. Mario turned off his Ipod, stowed it away safely in his pocket and began to bounce, springs creaking ominously under his weight. He stopped abruptly a few minutes later, when a black SUV coming into his line of vision.

_He's here? Already!?!_

Mario felt his heart flip when he say legs pop out of the open car door, walking out, coming towards him...

_Oh god..!_

Luigi walked towards the trampoline, looking up at Mario and down at the picture he was holding multiple times - watching his older sibling's head as it appeared in and out of his line of vision, bordered by sky and hedge and fence. He looked funny.

"H-Hi..." Luigi squeaked, voice soft and small, raising his hand in a hello. Mario bounced off the trampoline and landed onto the ground on his feet - perfectly and without any injury. "Um, Mario..."

Mario snickered slightly, eyeing Luigi up and down in a sceptical way, as if admiring a picture hanging in an art gallery. "You haven't changed a bit.." Mario saw big blue innocent eyes stare back at him, looking a little scared - overall strap hanging off Luigi's shoulder blade slightly. _Cute.._

"W-What?" Luigi asked, stepping back. "Aren't you happy to see me again?"

Mario's eyes widened a little, he blushed and scratched the back of his head. And if it were some sort of weird manga they had been plonked in, a giant tear-shaped drop of sweat would've rolled down the older sibling's forehead. "O-Of course I am! So very happy!"

A few minutes of awkward silence pass by them.

"C-Can I....hug you?" Luigi asked, his thumb pressed against his bottom lip, a smidge of red painting his cheeks.

Mario couldn't help the 'Awww!' that escaped his lips, Luigi's cheeks turned bright crimson - embarrassed.

"Of course you can." Mario says, and almost falls when Luigi throws his arms around him.

Luigi nuzzled his neck affectionately before mumbling, "I missed you.."

- - -

**an: **wowie. another multichap.


	2. o2: squares & circles

_Broken Prism _**»**

Squares & Circles

You think it would be awkward sleeping in a strange bed with strange bedsheets with walls that aren't white but some chocolate brown color. But you think that it's better, because at least it will be nice and you won't hear the awful yelling you hear at the asylum. Your big brother is sweet, kind and a good listener just like you'd hope he would be—just like he was when you were younger, like that time you ran home crying to him about the bully that lurked in the sandbox.

It's September and the sky looks like it's going to rain, your eyes fall to gaze at the house in front of you. You feel your blue-grays widen a little, if you didn't know any better you would say Mario's rich—a big white house with a nice lawn and iron gates around it—definitely nicer then the asylum. Mario is standing arm's length of you and you almost forgot he was there until you feel his shoulder bump into yours playfully.

"Nice?"

You hear the gears in your head turning and you nod simply, you smile so hard your lips hurt but you can't help it—it's been a while since you were this relieved, this happy. No more needles, no more annoying check ups, no more sitting on a lather couch and talking to some stranger who doesn't even listen to you—someone who sat and chewed gum and never wrote anything down on his notepad while he clenched his jaw, looking at the clock constantly.

You feel the urge to throw your arms around your sibling and squeeze the daylights out of him, thank him for saving you, but you feel like that might border on pathetic and he would look at you like you were strange.

"Here, let me help you with that--" Mario says softly, he grabs the dark blue suitcase from your grasp and heads towards the door, you can see him twirling his house keys around his fourth finger. You follow close behind and accidentally knock over a potted plant when you do, you wish you weren't so clumsy. You step onto the colorful tiled path in the grass to prevent yourself from breaking anything else, you hear the front door swing and knock onto the wall plaster violently.

"Here we go, I have a room a set up for you." Mario says brightly, taking a merry little step inside the house, you follow him inside and close the door behind you.

The floors are tiled white and there is a lot of nice furniture and there's a nice TV (even though you don't remember television at all since you've been locked up). It honestly doesn't look there's a spot of dirt in the house, you think that your big brother's wife is probably a neat-freak and that's good, then you both share something in common. When Mario isn't looking, you reach over to touch the petals on a rose which looks so real but turns out to be fake. Wow, even her dirt is fake, she's definitely one that likes to keep up appearances.

You jump up when you hear your suitcase fall at your feet.

"So, you don't mind carrying that up the stairs right?" Mario asks, his voice sounds far away and his eyes look like he's thinking about something. You nod slowly, bend down and snag the bag by it's handle. When you go up the flight of narrow wooden stairs you wonder why you feel like your falling.

It's dark in your room and the walls aren't colored brown like you thought, instead their white—like the asylum, but with a lot more furniture and a comfy, cozy feeling instead of that dark trapped-inside-a-snow globe feeling that you usually get. It's a nice change, of course. You fix your shoulder strap and look at Mario blankly, he feels you staring and looks at you, smiling. Your heart thumps rapidly in response. Yeah, it's nice to be with family.

"Does it feel like home?" Mario asks, his grin exposing nice, tooth paste commercial type teeth.

"Yeah."

¤ ( && ) Xx

Your in the kitchen looking through what's in the fridge just five minutes before she walks through the door. Outside, it's raining, hitting the windows and the ceiling—coming in big drops and swimming across the kitchen window like fish in an ocean. She walks in, her high heels wet and she shakes out her umbrella while looking around nervously. What you first notice is her hair: soft platinum blonde hair, curls that would probably feel like silk around your fingers. She's really pretty, you congratulate Mario in your head.

You watch her drop her bag on the floor, sigh, run her manacuried fingers through her hair and peel of her shoes. She throws them aside, they hit the wall with a loud _Clack! Clack!_ You watch drops of water run down her hairline and watch her use the back of her hand to wipe them away. She looks agitated, so you cower in the kitchen, hiding behind the wall next to the pretty marble counter.

You dodge behind the wall when you hear her heels clacking against the white titled floor, when she comes in the first thing she does is go to the fridge and take out a bottled water. Which, for some reason you think is funny, she turns around and notices you and then jumps. Spooked.

She leans in close, her blue eyes narrowing into slits and she looks confused at first.

"Who are you?"

You suck in a breath, you try to answer but instead her hands latch onto your cheeks and start pulling.

"You look just like my husband!" She gasps, eyes beaming and mouth smiling. "Luigi! It's you!"

When she hugs you, all you can think about is how her breasts are pressed up to your chest and how uncomfortable you feel. You let out a set of false laughter that's too loud, you don't hug her back, your arms hanging limply at your sides. When Mario comes in, it's all about greeting his wife and then saying something predictable like 'Well, I see you've gotten acquented'.

"Hi, my names Peach." She says cheerily.

Your hand feels heavier for some reason, but you shake her hand it doesn't feel right but you don't want to think about that so you shrug the feeling off. She asks you if you think you'll be comfortable here, you say yes, but you actually feel displaced. A square being forced through a circular hole.

When Peach leaves, Mario stays behind.

He's illuminated by the lamps in the kitchen when he move towards you and plants a kiss on your cheek.

"It's nice to have you back."


End file.
